A Far Piece to Canaan (34 page)

We were only a short way from the path up when I saw a smear of red on the cliff face. Then another, and another. I stopped and pulled at Dad, who looked at me, then to where I pointed. Lonnie had stopped too by this time, but the sheriff and everybody else kept walking.

“Sheriff!” Dad whispered.

The sheriff whipped around. There was fire in his eyes, and he motioned us forward like he was mad. Dad didn't speak, he just pointed and the sheriff turned back toward the cliff. He stood for an instant, then he saw the blood and swapped his rifle for the deputy's scattergun and flicked off the safety. “Cover me,” he said softly. “Rest of you hold your fire 'til th' deputy says shoot. Let him do any shootin' my way.”

It took the sheriff forever to move that thirty, forty foot. His head was fixed straight in front, but I knew he was seeing everything. The deputy was near him clutching his rifle and little catches were happening in his breathing. He was scared. The second I saw that, I was scared too.

Finally, the sheriff waved us forward. When we got there he pointed to the ground. There were drops of blood, and footprints heading toward the river. They were big and straight, and made by work boots.

“He's hurt and headin' for th' river,” the sheriff whispered.

“His footprints at th' Blue Hole was bare and one was crooked,” Lonnie said soft.

“Well, they're straight now, son, and covered with shoes,” said the sheriff. “You men go with th' deputy and take th' boys back t' th' group. I'll join you soon.”

We did that and the sheriff followed the tracks. I watched him until he neared the river, then lost sight. He was gone a long time and people started looking worried. Boy, I was tired. I hadn't slept since the night before last. My eyes burned and my head felt fuzzy.

“Hit's not th' crazy man,” Lonnie whispered to me. “He was barefooted and one foot was cloved. Bet I know who it is though.”

“Who?”

“LD's pa,” he whispered again. “He was all het up last night and didn't show this mornin'. I bet he come here before we did and got hisself knifed.”

It made sense. LD must have told his pa where to find the cave. Wudn't any tracks going to the path so he probably climbed down to the cave from above, found the crazy man, got stabbed, and made it down the cliff face to the bottoms. He was probably hurt too bad to get back up the cliff and headed for the river. It was the only way out for him. But where was the crazy man? He could be anywhere by this time. A twig snapped, and I jumped.

Lonnie laughed. “Hit's th' sheriff. You think hit was th' crazy man?”

I sure had.

“What'd y' find?” asked Rags, when the sheriff got close.

The sheriff had a half-mad look on his face. “Dead end. Tracks end at the water's edge. Whoever it was went into th' river and didn't come out. Something strange is goin' on here. I don't think those tracks were th' suspect's. Th' only guy who could've known where th' cave was other than th' people here is Howard, and he's th' only one missin'.”

“Where's th' crazy man then?” asked Pers, popping his eyes.

The sheriff squenched his mouth. “Good question. Probably in some other cave by now, wilder'n ever. He could still be in that one though. Let's do everything just like we planned. Mr. Clark, you and Mr. MacWerter come with me and th' deputy.”

It was something to see old man Mac climb that cliff, his long-barreled pistol in its holster. When they reached th' cave, they spread out on the edge of its mouth.

“You, in there,” the sheriff boomed. “Come on out. You're surrounded!”

Nothing. About ten seconds later, the sheriff called again. “Come out with your hands up and you won't be hurt. This is your final warning!”

Another ten to twenty seconds went by, then the sheriff waved to the deputy, who went in the downstream lip of the cave, while the sheriff leaped in the upstream edge. They stood there for an instant, pointing their guns, then the sheriff called for Bess and Mr. Mac. All four went inside and disappeared.

They were gone maybe five minutes. The first one out was Bess. He clambered down the cliff like a cat, half falling the last twenty feet. Everybody broke and run in his direction at the same time. Bess' eyes were wider than I ever saw when he got to us.

“Hit's Collins,” he gasped. “Deadest man I ever saw. Somebody shot him to pieces. Must've pumped two-three magazines int' him ….30–30s,” and he opened his hands and showed spent cartridges. “Tore him to pieces . . . knife's up there covered with blood . . . place looks like a slaughterhouse . . . God, hit's awful,” and he kept babbling.

.30–30s! Ben! It wudn't Howard, it was Ben! And he was hurt! Knifed! He knew somebody would find the blood and tracks so he headed for the river. He was bleeding bad but if he got a log and made it to the sandbar he could cut across country and maybe make it home. I had to get to Ben! I had to help him! While everybody was squeezed in around Bess I slipped away and headed downstream.

I
ran bent over until past the Blue Hole, trying not to be seen, then straightened up and took off. This was a part of the bottoms I'd never seen before and it was hard going. I was already getting tired when I come to a big marsh. The only way across was to slog through since the marsh backed up against some bluffs that looked like they would crumble if I tried to climb them. The muck sucked at my legs, pulling me in up to the knees. By the time I got on solid ground I felt weak. The sandbar had to be a coming up soon. There was no choice after that but to turn inland because a little further on, the Big Bend cliffs started and they come right down to the water's edge. I knew there was wild country ahead and I wudn't sure what to expect. I kept on running, and when I come over top of a little mound, I saw a flattened gentle beach with big willow trees behind it and knew that was the sandbar. I went past it, then ran into the trees and away from the river.

The land went up quick, the high bottoms where running was easy only lasting about a quarter mile. Then came hills, mostly brush covered, but in places thick with blackberry and raspberry briars that ripped at my long-sleeved flannel shirt and Levi's and pulled their thorns across the backs of my hands, leaving white tracks that popped out in blood. I kept watching for broken brush and blood, but there were no signs.

I thought about Ben while I ran. He'd saved my life and I had never done anything for him. Couple old presents he could've bought easy hisself. There were long stretches when I hardly even visited him. He'd always come through for me, though. If I had done what he told me to a long time ago, he wouldn't be hurt now. Lonnie was my friend and I didn't want him beat to pieces, but it was Ben who saved my life. All this stuff was my fault. I wudn't a man like I should've been, and Ben was maybe dying because of it.

I was sucking wind when I come into taller timber. There were fewer briars, but still a lot of locust, which is worse than briars with its long needles. At the top of a hill, I got my first clear shot of the land ahead and stopped.

The river had made about half its big bend and stretched out straight into the distance. Great forests of trees and brush hid the haze-covered ground. A couple of spots looked familiar but only the river was certain. My eyes went blurry and my face felt drawn. I hadn't slept in a long time. When I saw clear again, I took off downhill.

At the bottom of the hill was a ravine with a hickory grove. The ground flattened out into what looked like a silted-in creek bed with heavy dead grass and great high iron weeds with thick stalks. I raised my arms up to keep the leaves from hitting my face and crashed on through, but with my face covered like that I didn't see th' slanting barbwire fence until I ran into it. The top wire caught me just below the neck, then all the strands jabbed barbs into me as I spun down them like a corkscrew, their dragon's teeth eating me alive.

When I got up, I hurt every place the barbs had touched. My left eye blurred, and I rubbed it with my shirttail. There was blood, but I could see clear again after I wiped it. Turned out my eye was okay, the blood was coming from my forehead and trickling down. I dug around one of the fence posts where the ground was loose and packed dirt from my eyebrows to my hair. That stopped the bleeding and I stood up and checked myself. There was mud nigh to my hips, my clothes were tore to pieces, and I was bleeding everywhere. Oozing though, not gushing. My left knee was a little stiff too. All in all though, things wudn't bad. They just looked bad.

I was climbing the fence when a noise froze me straddle the wires. I held my breath and listened. Quiet. Then a squirrel leaped from one hickory tree to another. Wudn't any other sounds but the breeze, so I figured it was the squirrel. It still bothered me because the sound seemed like it come from the ground. When nothing else moved, I swung my other leg over the barbwire and started running. It was uphill and down again and the ache that started in my upper legs sank to my calves. My side began bothering me, a real running side ache. Funny things started happening too. Trees and hillsides were stretching out of shape. I thought maybe it was more blood in my eyes and I put my hand to them but the only thing that stuck to my fingers was mud.

The hills got steeper and seemed to go up forever. At the top of one hill, the hickory trees quit and it was back to brush, locust, and blackberry briars. They took a lot of hide.

At the top of another hill, I come to an oak grove. By this time my forehead was really bleeding again, making it hard to see, and my legs and side were killing me. I just couldn't go further without stopping and fell on a heap of dead brown leaves gasping for air. Two, three minutes went by while I got my breath and the side ache eased, then I set up and dug some more loose dirt and packed it on my forehead. It was quiet in the big oaks. Something was going on; I could feel it. I thought about LD's dad. He could've followed the posse and saw me slip away. Maybe he was after me because I told. I was really scared and took off down the hill after glancing back.

It was good running now, steep, smooth, with big oaks and no scrub. My body was flying, taking great glomping, floating steps into soft, windless air like leaping off little cliffs into pillows. On my last leap my foot come down on sand. Bottom land!

A new rush of strength filled me and I poured it on, coming at last to the far edge of the melon patch. I quit running and stared across the open field. The cabin looked deserted. I raced toward it. About forty, fifty foot into dead melon vines, I thought about Cain and Abel and pulled up. If Ben was in the cabin the two of them would be outside and they'd tear me to pieces if they got surprised, especially if Ben was hurt.

I began walking slow, and at a spot just beyond the length of their chains, I called. Around the house they come, barking like devils. My knees shook as their big yellow bodies scooched down and streaked toward me, jingling their link chains which yanked them upright at the end. I had to stop being scared if I was going to get to the cabin. They could smell fear. Looking at Cain, I knew things wudn't going to be easy.

“Abel . . . Abel . . . it's me, boy, Samuel. It's Samuel, Abel.”

They stood there, ears laid back, barking and snarling while I kept talking soft and squeaky. “It's me, Abel . . . it's me . . . good boy. It's me, Abel . . . good dog.”

He quit snarling, and his tail wagged a little, but Cain barked as hard as ever. I walked forward and kept talking soft.

My hand touched his short yellow coat and head. I knelt down to rub his back and let him smell me over. “Good boy,” I kept saying, and he licked at my face and shoved me with his head.

Cain had backed away and stood snarling. It was strange, he looked exactly like Abel, so much from a distance it was hard to tell them apart, but he wudn't like Abel at all. Cain hated everybody but Ben. Especially me.

“Cain . . .” I said, stepping in front of Abel, but still holding on to his neck. “Hi, Cain . . . you're a good dog, Cain.”

Cain stood his ground, giving a low growl that got deeper. I kept coming, fighting to keep from being scared, but it wudn't any use. “Good boy, Cain, good boy,” and his upper lip curled back showing his fangs. Looking at him was terrifying, but I had to find out if Ben was in the cabin.

Suddenly, there was another growl, and it come from behind. I looked around and Abel was growling. His head was cocked at an angle, watching the two of us. I wudn't sure if he was growling at Cain or me. The insides of me was jelly so bad I could hardly stand it. I looked to the front again, and suddenly I shouted, “Get out of here, Cain!” hardly realizing what I said. “Get out the way, you sonamabitch!” and I started straight at him.

Cain backed up a step and I come faster, “Get the hell out of the way,” I shouted.

Cain turned his shoulder to me and began half trotting toward the cabin, his big body jogging sideways, head and eyes still watching me. Twenty yards behind, Abel was sitting on his haunches like he didn't know what to do. I stopped and yelled, “Abel, come here!” and he did and let me pet his neck. “Good dog, Abel, good dog,” I said.

I started walking again, straight toward the cabin, acting like I did it every day. Cain kept trotting ahead and to the side, a constant growl coming out of his throat.

I was so busy with the dogs that the blood smeared on the cabin door didn't catch my eye until the last ten, fifteen feet. He was in there! Maybe he was alive! I had to fight to keep from racing ahead, and almost wrenched the knob off when I got there, causing a deeper growl from Cain. The door was locked. I stood for a few seconds, then pecked on the wood and whispered, “Ben?”

Nothing.

Behind me come another growl and a bark. “Ben, you in there?”

Dead quiet.

“Ben,” and my voice raised, and I gave a louder knock. The growls got louder, followed by several barks and a snarl. I turned and looked at the two dogs. Cain had taken about all he was going to. “Come here!” I yelled, and Abel walked up three or four foot from me and whined, barely wagging his tail. He wudn't sure anymore. Cain was. In just a little while he was gonna tear me apart. I stepped up to Abel and rubbed his neck while he whined again and snuffed my pants. He liked me, but not what he smelled. Fear. And it was getting worse.